


Cassa Nova’s Silver Lining

by Tezzieh



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Also featuring Napoleon's impulse control disorder, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Lotsa Napoleon Solo loving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tezzieh/pseuds/Tezzieh
Summary: A medium sized Napoleon Solo fic.Waverly wants you to marry Napoleon, so he has a watertight story for the CIA. Except Waverly wants you to really do it.You say yes, because you do want that sweet raise.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller, Napoleon Solo/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Cassa Nova’s Silver Lining

You are seated in the canteen of the head office in London. “Y/L/N, Waverly wants you!” Alida shouts. You don’t like her voice, or her odd accent. It is very Blackpool, but in a terrible sort of way.   
You give your soup a withering glare. You know you are not going to finish it. So you clear it away and heave a sigh. You are going to have to face the music.

You take the elevator to Waverly’s office. It is in the top of the skyscraper. 

Waverly is waiting in his office, with a man in a well tailored suit. “Y/L/N, this is Napoleon Solo.” Waverly gestures to the man. The man in the suit stands up and comes over. “Y/N, a pleasure to finally meet you.” He purrs.   
His hair is black as soot. His eyes are big ocean pools. And his teeth, revealed in a wide smile, are perfect pearly whites.   
He extends his hand to you. You take it. Instead of shaking it, Solo brings it to his face, kissing your knuckles. His lips are warm and even when they graze your skin, are pulled into a small smirk. You go red as a beet. 

“Please sit down, both of you.” Waverly gestures. 

Napoleon plops back into his arm chair and you sit on the chair by Waverly’s desk. 

“Y/N, I have a very important task for you.” Waverly says. “Oh, where is the mission to, boss?” You grin, glad Waverly is finally letting you go into the field again. “No field work, Y/N. I have a very special request.” Waverly sounds sort or … insecure. You wonder why that is.  
“It of course goes paired with a raise and a couple of other perks.” Waverly rubs his neck. He seems nervous in getting to the point, which is very unlike Waverly.

“Stop beating around the bush, will you?” Solo asks. 

“We want you to marry Mr. Solo here.” Waverly spits it right out. You look at him in disbelief. “You mean paper married, or just pretend?” You ask. You doubt it is pretend though, because this is not something for in the field, as Waverly already made clear. “I mean paper married. Solo needs a watertight defense against the CIA, I would loathe to give him back to America.” Waverly affirms.

You turn to face Solo. 

Napoleon smiles an utterly charming smile to you. “I assure you, I will make a fantastic husband.” He purrs.  
“All the expenses will be on us, of course.” Waverly says. You turn back to Waverly, gape at him for a while and then turn to Napoleon to gape at him.   
“Are you two serious?” You ask. You are in the process of mentally convincing yourself these two men are taking the mickey out of you. Except, Waverly is not at all the humorous type.  
“No, Y/N, we aren’t.” Solo replies.   
You pinch the bridge of your nose. You know you can just say no, walk out of the office and try to get yourself another cup of soup. It was very good soup…   
But something inside you holds you back from doing just that. You are not sure what it is. Maybe it is the raise, you know Waverly is going to foot you a big fat paycheck if you say yes. Or maybe it is Napoleon ocean eyes, sucking you in with the gravity of a fucking vortex.

“Ugh … fine.” You groan.

“You really save us here, Y/N.” Waverly says. He grabs his checkbook right away. He writes out an amount with four zeroes and hands it to you. “Go buy yourself a nice dress and plan something pretty. It has to be believable.” He says.   
You fold the cheque and put it in the pocket of your blouse. “Need a hand with that?” Napoleon winks at you. “No, I can manage.” You reply. Napoleon makes a bit of a disappointed sound. “You occupy yourself with your suit, alright. I’ll let you know what colour the tie needs to be.” You get up.  
Waverly and Solo rise too. “Let me at least walk you to the door.” Napoleon purrs. He comes up to you. You give him an up and down. Darned, his suit looks like it is in distress. “Hm, very well.” You reply. Napoleon sends you a show stopper of a smirk. He offers you his arm.   
You hesitate, but then succumb to him. You take his arm and allow Solo to escort you from Waverly’s office. Solo’s arm is strong and firm and you can’t help a squeeze of his bicep. Solo smirks, smugly. “Do you like that Y/N.” He purrs. You fluster darkly. 

The elevator brings you back to the third floor, where you have your own work space. 

Napoleon lingers by the door while you grab your purse. “Are you sure I can’t come with you?” He purrs. “I am very sure.” You answer. You put on your coat and say goodbye to some of your colleagues.   
Napoleon follows you down three flights of stairs. “Have you nothing better to do, Solo?” You ask. “You should not call me by my last name. It will soon be yours too.” Napoleon purrs. Your cheeks heat up with that realisation. You are rather displeased with how your body reacts to him.   
You stride past the reception, trying to flee from him. Napoleon does get the hint and stays behind.

You flee into London, entering the first bridal store you can find.

You see Napoleon again two days later. He is sitting in your desk chair. “Solo, what are you doing here?” You ask him sharply. “I have something for you.” He purrs. You sigh and roll your eyes. This better be worth your while.   
“Get out of my chair.” You tell him. “Yes my dear.” Napoleon rises. He sends you a wide smile. Your heart gives an involuntary flutter. You grit your teeth, as if you try to bite down on it.   
“Come here.” Napoleon gestures. You heave a sigh and walk over to your desk.  
“I’d like you to wear this.” Napoleon hands you a small square box. Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach, because you know what this is. “It better not be bugged.” You have heard Miss Teller regale the story of her partner giving her a bugged ring before they started dating for real. “It is not.” Napoleon cooes. 

You open the small box. The ring inside is graceful, but not really modest. It must have cost Napoleon quite some. “You shouldn’t have.” You tell him. “Let’s call it an heirloom. I filched it off of the broud who sold me to the CIA.” He replies. You are not even sure if that makes you want the ring less, or more.   
Napoleon takes the ring out of the box. He gently grasps your hand. You look him in the eye, those startling endless ocean eyes. He hypnotises you with them. You stretch your fingers and he gently puts the ring on your ring finger.   
“I would have liked going to my knee, but Waverly said that was likely a bit too much.” Napoleon presses a kiss to your temple. “Thank god for Waverly.” You reply. You don’t think you would have been able to handle Solo going to one knee. 

You sit down behind your desk and frown at the ring. “That is rose gold and the finest tourmaline.” Solo purrs. “It is beautiful..” You mutter. “It becomes you.” Napoleon sends you that smile that gives you the vapours.   
You turn the ring around your finger. You are not sure how to feel. It is like Napoleon is trying his best to actually make you feel for him. And like he might be succeeding. 

“What is with that ring?” Your cousin asks. “What do you mean?” You give her a confused look. You haven’t really been thinking about the ring Napoleon gave you. You wear it almost by automatism.   
“This ring, silly.” Your cousin grabs your hand and waves it in your face. Your eyes fixate on rose gold and tourmaline. “Oh that…” You mumble. “It was a gift…” You mumble. “From whom?” Your cousin asks, greedy for gossip.   
“M-my fiance..” You fluster and there is nothing fake about it. Thinking of Napoleon as your fiance is so strange. “You have a fiance!?! Do your parents know about it???” Your cousin asks, overly loud. Half the restaurant looks up at her.   
You shake your head. “Why not?” She hisses. “He is from work.” You mumble. Your cousin does not know you work for MI6, or UNCLE for that matter. But she knows you work for the government and that most stuff you do is confidential.   
“What type of guy is he?” She asks. “Very charming, very flirty.” You reply, a little distaste in your voice. “Let me guess, you know that he is cheating, but marry him anyway for the money. As soon as you have a kid, you divorce him and reel in the alimony.” Your cousin smirks. It sure as hell is what she’s done. Twice over already.  
Just thinking of doing that to Napoleon makes your heart churn with pain. You could never! “No I am not.” You reply coldly. You genuinely love your cousin, but sometimes she is a bit too much. “We’ll see about that.” She giggles.

“When is the wedding?” She asks. You shrug weakly. “There is no date set yet.” You mumble.

Your phone rings. You heave a sigh and pick up, praying it is not Solo. “Yes?” You say. “Why didn’t you tell me!!??” It is your mother on the other end of the line. That is literally the only worse option right now!  
“T-tell you mum?” You try to feign innocence. How the heck are you going to lie your way out of this??? Your mom is not supposed to know you are marrying Napoleon for duty only. Or that that duty is to a secret branch of the government for that matter!!!  
“That you are getting married, of course!” She shouts. Oh yes, this is going to be a hard conversation. “I wanted to do it in person.” You hear yourself say. “So my little girl is coming home?” Your mother is of course, beside herself with joy. You grit your back teeth in order not to groan. 

You don’t want to go back to the place you grew up in. It is a small fishers village, just off the coast of Dublin. You don’t want to go back to the small town mindset and the small town attitude. Even if it is just for a few days.

“Make sure to bring your fiance.” Your mother titters.

FUCK

“Solo, what are your plans for this weekend?” You ask. Napoleon looks up at you with a wide smirk. “So you want to go out with me.” He purrs. “No, you are going to meet my parents.” You say.   
“The entire weekend?” He asks. “Yeah … the entire weekend.” You nod. “And where do your parents live?” Napoleon frowns. “Howth.” You answer. “That is off the coast of Ireland, if I remember correctly.” There is a wide smirk on Napoleon’s face. “Just a ferry ride away from Dublin.” You answer. “That sounds absolutely love.” Solo purrs. You want to tell him it is not, plead him to make up a reason why he can’t come with you, or maybe even a reason why he is not letting you go there.  
But that is of course not in the cards. Napoleon already looks to be brimming with eagerness. “I cannot wait to meet your parents.” He smirks. “Drat.” You mutter under your breath.

Friday afternoon, you’re on the ferry from Dublin to Howth. To say you are nervous is an understatement.   
You gaze at the island, growing and growing as you approach. Growing with your dread. You don’t want this, none of it. Not the beautiful rose gold ring, nor the man in the well bespoke suit that gave it to you. Not the story behind it, or the lies you will have to weave for your family.  
You don’t want to lie. But more than that you don’t want your family’s judgement.   
“Are you alright?” Napoleon asks. “Yeah, as long as you let me make up the story and just go with it, I’ll be fine.” You reply, a bit brusquely. Napoleon puts his hand on your shoulder. You shrug him away. “Don’t get too clingy Solo.” You growl. Napoleon is not so easily intimidated, though.  
“You need to relax some, act natural. Everything is going to be fine.” He murmurs warmly. You turn to him. “Don’t do this.” You whisper. You don’t want to fall in love with Napoleon. No way he is going to fall in love with you..

Your father is waiting when you come off the ferry. “There is my little girl.” He says, hugging you tightly. “Hello dad.” You happily hug him back. You have always been your dad's little girl.   
You pull away. “Papa, this is Napoleon Solo.” You gesture to your intended. Napoleon extends your father his hand. “Mr. Y/L/N.” He says, charming as ever. “Oh I see why my daughter likes you, Mr. Solo.” Your dad shakes Napoleon’s hand.   
“She likes me enough to marry me.” Napoleon purrs, sending you a fresh wink. You fluster and look away from him. “You are making her shy, I will have to ask you to stop that.” Your father says jokingly.   
“Dad, can we go, before I decide to walk home.” You pipe up. Napoleon and your father both laugh. “Of course sweetpea.” Your dad chuckles and leads you to his car. 

The drive to the house is short, where the hike would have been quite a ways. But the hike would have been infinitely more beautiful. 

Your mother is waiting on the front porch, along with her three tiny dogs. 

“Y/N, my sweet girl!” She calls out. You steel yourself. Your mother still treats you like you are 12. And that is not what you want, especially not when Napoleon is around. Because he is not going to let you forget it.  
“Hi ma.” You say. You walk up to meet her. Her small dogs jump around your legs, yapping at you. “Finally my baby is home again.” Your mother embraces you tightly. “Ma, please, I need to breathe.” You whine. “Wife, let the girl be.” Your dad says. Reluctantly, your mother let’s you go.   
While you crouch to say hello to your mother’s mutts, Napoleon is playing the part of charming fiance to her. You want to smash your fist down on his toes. He is not supposed to weasel his way into your family. It is just a paper shield, not a real marriage!

Your mother herds you inside.  
Once there, you get the shock of your life. The entire family is waiting for you. Your heart sinks into your stomach. This is not good! Not you don’t just have to make your parents believe your tall tale, but your grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins and younger brother. And with so many people it is easy to be seperated from Solo and start telling different stories.   
So you grab Napoleon by the hand and hope to god playing the clingy fiance is going to work the way you hope. Napoleon looks down on you and sends you that show stopper smile. Whatever is left of your heart melts right out of your ribcage. 

You say hello to your family while Napoleon gives paws, you hate it.

You make sure to sit down next to Napoleon. No way in hell you are going to let him out of earshot. He is not going to fuck this up!  
Napoleon puts his hand on your thigh. “Relax, baby, we can do this.” He murmured warmly. “Oh you don’t know my family.” You muss. Uncles and your grandfathers laugh, but your aunts and mother don’t look too please. Napoleon chuckles gently. “I can’t wait to get to know them.” He purrs. 

Of course, you are bombarded with questions.   
Where did you meet Napoleon? How long have you been with him? Where to was your first date? When did he ask you to marry him? What does he do for a job? Did you already have sex? THAT IS INAPPROPRIATE AUNT MAGGIE!!! Is he good to you? Does he have his own house? Ect ect ect. 

Napoleon allows you to spin the tale. He sometimes adds factual things, or his opinion. He tells your grandmothers how starstruck he felt when he first saw you. And your grandfather what a hard worker he has found to be. All harmless things. 

Soon enough it is dinner time. Your mother ushers the entire family into the spacious dining room. You once again make sure you sit down beside Napoleon.   
“She can’t stand to be parted from me.” Napoleon purrs. He tucks his napkin in the front of his shirt, to prevent from spilling on his expensive suit. 

Dinner is really much of the same, but gathered around one table. Napoleon does keep to the script, which makes you glad.


End file.
